


Scars

by justalittlegreen



Series: Sunshine and Filth [35]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Breakfast, Coffee, Gentleness, Multi, Poly, Tension, operation friendship tag, se09ep10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: The first morning of Hawkeye's visit.





	Scars

She'd expected him to come back with scars, some tangible proof of all he'd been through, something to show that it wasn't all just a bad dream.  
  
Most of them were invisible - save for the small spiderlike web where his hand had been stitched up.   
  
"Hardly a war wound," he'd told her, almost amused. "Just an idiot for a coworker."  
  
It stiffened up some mornings, and she'd catch him massaging it, stretching the fingers. If it pained him or cramped during surgery, he never let on.

  
  
The second day of Hawkeye's visit, she finds them in the kitchen, sitting side by side, shoulder to ankle, pressed together, their heads bent over coffee and the morning paper. She comes down, clutching her robe closed, deliberately hitting each creaky spot on the steps.   
  
BJ looks up at her with a broad grin, dazzling and delighted. "Mornin', darlin'," he says, getting up to fetch her a mug. "Thought I'd make the coffee today."  
  
She offers her cheek for a kiss as he passed by, and he obliges. "What's for breakfast?" she asks. "Good morning, Hawkeye."  
  
Hawkeye slings an arm over the back of his chair and looks at her through half-lidded eyes. His hair is a mess. "Hi, Peg," he says softly. "You sleep well?"  
  
Peg's almost startled by the question. Had she? She remembers the sickening feelings of guilt and fear making her toss and turn well into the night. She remembers the unusual quiet from BJ's side of the bed, the fact that when she was still enough, she swore she could feel Hawkeye's presence in the house. Is there an answer to this?  
  
"Mmm," she finally says. "And you? Is the bed all right?"  
  
"Slept like a baby," he says smoothly. "And to answer your question, I was going to make toast and eggs for breakfast. If that's all right with you."  
  
"Sounds perfect," she says, accepting the coffee from BJ. He's doubled the sugar and halved the cream - dark and sweet, just as she likes it.   
  
BJ pours himself another cup and sits back down. She joins them on his other side, and for a moment, the three stare into nothing, letting the morning settle in, their mugs warming their hands.

  
Peggy's thoughts have wandered far enough that she's almost forgotten where they are when Hawkeye suddenly speaks. "Does it bother you?"  
  
He's staring at BJ's hand, those eyes missing nothing. BJ absently kneads his forefinger and thumb into the fleshy space between his fingers. "Not often."  
  
"Mmm. Maybe should have someone look at it. I never trusted that guy."  
  
"Hawk, it's fine."  
  
"You shouldn't have arthritis at thirty five."  
  
"It's not arthritis."  
  
"How can you be sure?"  
  
"Because I'm sure."  
  
Peggy raises an eyebrow. She knows that note in BJ's voice - the one that belies the levelheaded lightness of his tone. It's a warning, a cease-and-desist order. She wonders if Hawkeye can hear it.  
  
"I'm not so sure you can be sure."  
  
"Why are you harping on this?" Now there's a definite edge.  
  
"Because you're a surgeon with a stiff hand and that's not exactly the career I'd imagined for you -"  
  
"Whoa. Who said anything about my career?"  
  
"You can't operate unless your hands are one hundred percent, Beej, you know that!" Hawkeye's voice rises, speeds up, a hint of panic creeping in. "I knew that guy wasn't the best. I didn't like him. You should never have - "  
  
"What, Hawk? Should never have what?" BJ's voice is dangerously calm now. Peg's desperate to intervene and has no idea how or what to say. She puts her cup down, rattling it against the table and both men look up like she's shot a gun in the middle of the kitchen.   
  
"Hawkeye, I'd love some of that toast," she says carefully, the way her mother would when her father started getting into one of his moods. "The bread's in a box by the toaster."  
  
Hawkeye shakes his head slightly, as if to clear it. "Right," he mumbles, getting up without looking at her. She sips her coffee. BJ glares moodily at the table.  
  
So this is how they fight, she thinks. This is the other side to them, the grating intimacy of liberties taken and lines crossed. She crosses her legs and reaches for the section of the paper Hawkeye'd been reading.   
  
BJ reaches for her hand and squeezes it, offers her what he may think is a reassuring smile. She returns it before looking down to read.   
  
When he lets go, his hand is shaking.


End file.
